


Witcher, Witcher

by MerlinOfTheShire



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Almost Kiss, Angst, Based on an ABBA Song, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Geralts afraid to love, Humor, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Light Angst, M/M, Parody, Pining, References to ABBA, References to Monty Python, Romance, Shrek References, Singing, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, can you believe I made 'honey honey' sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22421413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerlinOfTheShire/pseuds/MerlinOfTheShire
Summary: Jaskier has been trying to compose a song about meeting Geralt for a while, but he can't quite get it right.OrJaskier figures out he may be a tad bit in love with Geralt whilst composing a parodied ABBA song.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 13
Kudos: 301





	Witcher, Witcher

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own The Witcher or ABBA, or Mamma Mia!
> 
> A/N
> 
> Sorry for any typos in advance, I'll do my best to correct them. 
> 
> Thought I'd start at the beginning of their story this time. This one is a tad bit sadder, so apologies in advance. Don't worry, Geralt's going to get cursed by a witch and be forced t sing in the next one. 
> 
> I accidentally made 'Honey, Honey' a sad pinning song. Oops.

**Witcher, Witcher**

As of yet, travelling on and off with the Witcher was proving quite eventful. Not to mention good for both their reputations. _Toss a Coin to Your Witcher_ had turned a punch to Geralt’s face into a beer and friendly smile in only a few years. Naturally, Geralt seemed adamant that it had nothing to do with the song. Because it was obviously the Witcher’s warm smile and charming disposition. 

He’d learnt that Geralt wasn’t exactly one for conversation. His vocabulary was often limited to ‘fuck’ and boarish grunts. Not that he minded. It meant he had more time for composing his songs, despite the Witcher’s protests.

“ _Witcher, Witcher, how you thrill me. Aha, Witcher, Witcher…_ ” he sings quietly, strumming absentmindedly at his lute as he walks. “ _Witcher, Witcher, nearly killed me. Aha, Witcher, Witcher._ ”

Well, it was true. In more ways than one, really.

He watches the man’s back, heavily armoured. He never seems to slow despite it, though It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that he had a strength about him that surpassed the ordinary. He was leading Roach, now, sparing the horse a moment or rest rather than himself.

Jaskier had observed that Geralt hated almost everyone, except his horse. He liked that about him. The Witcher wasn’t one to ride relentlessly until his mount almost collapsed from exhaustion. He dismounted every few hours, walking for several more. Though the man never seemed to care much about feeding himself, he made sure that Roach often drank, and had time to munch on some vegetation.

He watches as the man slows to a stop, feeding Roach a handful of oats while he talks softly to the mare.

Jaskier smiles, “ _I’d heard about you before, I wanted to know some more…_ ”

Geralt’s head turns slightly, “what the fuck are you singing about, Jaskier?”

He walks a bit faster, catching up to the Geralt. “I’m _composing_ a song,” he says, giving Roach a pat. “About why I started following a giant lug around.”

Geralt pulls himself back up into the saddle, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Hmm.”

\-------

Jaskier _thinks_ Geralt’s agreed to go to the Lioness’ banquet. He’s wearing the non-blood-soaked pants he’d selected for the man. He _may_ just be wearing them because he stole his normal clothes, sending them to be washed. But then again who needs clothes.

His own hair is in a bit of a state, so he goes about setting it right, trying not to look at Geralt.

But Geralt seems …sad?

He’s standing in front of the mirror, frowning deeply as amber eyes look over himself. Almost absentmindedly, he touches his medallion, grazing his fingers over the scar that runs across his collarbone. After a moment he goes about tying his hair, and Jaskier can’t help but notice how much _care_ he takes in making it right. For a man that seems happy to travel in the same clothes for months on end, it's odd.

Sighing deeply, Geralt puts the rest of his clothes on, looking rather resigned.

“I’m going to saddle Roach,” he says, heading for the door.

He’s gone before Jaskier can reply.

Putting the comb down, he stares at the door. “ _You act like a burning star,”_ he half sings. _“But I like just who you are…_ ”

\-------

He didn’t want Geralt to go alone. Not after the last hunt. The brute claimed it had only been ‘a flesh wound’, but he’d almost lost his whole fucking arm, the twat. Sure, he himself couldn’t do much combat wise. Geralt was a walking battle-axe while he was more of the slingshot, wack them over the head with a frying pan (or his lute, goddess above forgive him), type.

But if it meant he could stop the emotionally stunted imbecile from bleeding out from a fucking ‘scratch’ then he was fucking going with him.

Geralt’s having none of it.

Apparently it was to ‘dangerous’, like he hadn’t been following the man into literal fire since he was barely 19.

He’s tacking Roach up, making sure his saddlebags are secure.

And most importantly, ignoring him.

“Geralt, _really_ ,” he insists, “you’ve barely healed, not to mention you don’t actually _know_ what you’re hunting. I can make sure you don’t-“

Geralt turn’s around, and take’s hold of his shoulders, almost gently. “Jaskier, _relax,”_ he says, eyes becoming a tad softer. “Drink, bed. Work on that song that you’ve never finished.”

“Geralt-“

“ _Relax_ ,” he says, hands barely-just running along his arms as he pulls away.

And then he’s off, disappearing towards the horizon like he’s in a fucking fairy tale. Well fuck fairy tales, fuck destiny and whatever fucking monsters waiting for Geralt. And fuck his unfinished song.

He’s going to finish it.

He collects his lute, because it’s never far away, and sits down on one of the hay bales. Maybe he should just go after him? In case he definitely doesn’t almost lose a leg and say he’s had worse.

“… _.You never say goodbye_ ,” he sings, looking to where Geralt had disappeared from view, a painful tight feeling in his chest. He wants him to come _back._ To _stay._ Grunts, brooding and all.

He swallows, _“I want you to hold me tight. I feel like I wanna scream, and I don’t know what it means…_ ”

\-------

Well, that had been …eventful. Geralt had only gone to get firewood; he hadn't even been that far away. But it had been far enough. Far enough for a whole lot of bandits to ambush him at camp, threatening pain and torture and the usual, lest he give them information on Geralt. They seemed to think he would know his secret, _weakness._ A way to defeat the mighty Witcher.

Thank fuck for Geralt’s excellent senses.

He’d appeared suddenly from the tree line, a crazed, _enraged_ look on his face.

There had been a dagger at his throat in an instant, stopping Geralt in his tracks.

But only for a moment. The bandits were slow.

But not slow enough that he didn’t get a nasty cut along his collarbone.

Geralt had made short work of them after that. He’s holding a cloth to the wound now, trying to be gentle as he cleans it, bless him. He’s got a troubled expression on his face, brow furrowed.

Jaskier lets his finger’s graze over Geralt’s, for just a second. “You’re not hurting me, Geralt." 

Geralt breathes, “why are you here, Jaskier?”

Jaskier pushes Geralt's` hand away, suddenly regretting offering any form of reassurance. “What kind of a question is that?”

Geralt shakes his head, looking pained from the effort of finding words. “Why are you _still_ here,” he says.

He frowns, trying to ignore the sudden return of the pain in his chest. Well, his _heart._ “Do you _want_ me to leave?”

Geralt hands go to his shoulders for a second, before he seems to think better of it. “No, Jaskier- I, _fuck!_ “

He sighs, willing himself to be patient. “What are you trying to say, Geralt?”

Geralt presses a new cloth to his cut, before guiding his hand to hold pressure over the wound. Geralt keeps his own hand there too, fingers almost threading into his.

“I’m- this a dangerous way to live, Jaskier. I don’t know why-“ His hand tightens over his, “sooner or later people see me and scream butcher, monster. _Mutant._ Nobody wants to know a monster for long. _”_

Oh.

_He thinks…_

He shifts, trying to find Geralt’s eye. “Well,” he says, “here I am…”

Geralt goes still, his lips pursed slightly. This feels different from the last time he said something like this. Something …more?

The hand over his wanders, grazing his jaw, “Jaskier…”

His eyes flicker down to Geralt’s lips, and he wants too… All he’d have to do is lean a little closer and-

But then Geralt's getting up, almost falling over his feet. “I need to feed Roach,” is all he says.

He watches him go, a pit in his stomach growing. “ _…I’d heard about you before, I wanted to know some more,”_ he whispers, the ghost of a touch on his jaw. He smiles sadly _, “now I think I see, what you mean to me…_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> So the 'people call me a monster scene' is basically just that one scene from Shrek, right?


End file.
